Worth It
by MGMK
Summary: The Pierces and their daughter and a visit from an old friend...


**Disclaimer: **Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author's Note: **My subconscious just totally mindfuck trolled me. I had a dream that the entire second and third seasons of Glee were a dream. Like, written as such and at the end of this season one of the characters woke up and was like what the hell was that and it cut to the season two opening. Thanks for reading and reviewing. And thanks to my beta again for looking this - and other things - over for me.

* * *

><p>Santana thinks being a mother is truly amazing.<p>

It's perfect.

There's something miraculous about giving birth and creating this tiny being that depends on you for everything from entertainment to their basic wellbeing.

And being Maya's mother is something great in and of itself, watching her turn more and more into this person with likes and dislikes, wants and needs.

And every day Maya's revealing something new to them.

From the fact that she despises peas – so does Brittany, by the way, so she wasn't the least bit surprised when she walked in on her wife pouring jar upon jar down the garbage disposal – to the fact that her favorite game to date is "Sound That Animal".

That's where she and Brittany take turns calling out the name of an animal and then producing the sound the animal makes. It's completely ridiculous and sometime Brittany'll call out an animal that she has no clue what to do with – honestly, who has ever gotten close enough to a skunk to hear what it _sounds_ like – but Maya gets a kick out of it, clapping her hands and mimicking the sounds.

Actually, she mostly just blows spit bubbles – Brittany swears it's an underwater duck – and it's just perfect.

Like now, with her working on music and Brittany and Maya curled up next to her, she'd gladly give up everything she owns to stay in this moment.

"What sound does the cow make, Maya?" Brittany asks her, pointing to the cartoon cow in the baby book.

Maya looks at the book, swatting at it with damp hands as she gurgles happily.

Brittany gasps. "That's right, Maya. It goes 'moo!'"

"Britt," Santana breaks in, a wry smile on her face, "That was nowhere near close to a moo."

"It doesn't matter," Brittany informs her, turning the page. "We're supposed to encourage her regardless. It's good for her development."

Santana leans back against the sofa, the unnamed track still playing along in one ear as she regards Brittany quietly.

It takes a while but Brittany finally takes notice of the extra attention she has, catching Santana's eye. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Santana replies, sitting up and facing Brittany properly. "Do you remember when we first found out I was pregnant?"

"Of course I do," Brittany laughs. "The pee stick was still wet when you shoved it in my face…over my bowl of Lucky Charms I might add."

"I was happy," Santana grins sheepishly, clearing her throat. "But, no seriously, do you remember the official confirmation? That night after the ultrasound?"

_In all the years Santana's known Brittany, a few things have always been true._

_One of them: once Brittany's settled in for the night, that's the position she usually stays in 'til morning._

_It's pretty damn awesome because it makes snuggling a cinch when your girlfriend-shaped pillow doesn't budge._

_She can pretty much wrap herself up in Brittany like a blanket._

_So, tonight, when the chill of their room drifts along her shoulders and she reaches for Brittany's arm to cover-up, she's shocked when it's not there._

_In fact, none of Brittany is there._

_She finds her quickly enough though, her eyes snapping open and drifting to the one source of light in their room, the non-covered window illuminated dimly by the light of the moon. There Brittany sits, in boy shorts and a sweatshirt, hands clasped together in what looks like prayer. Santana doesn't move, doesn't disturb her, but she listens…listens as Brittany expresses her hopes and dreams…and fears._

"_Okay, Jesus," Brittany says quietly, ever mindful of waking Santana, "Or God…Mary? I'm not sure. Religious stuff always confused me. Plus, you know, communion, yuck. Anyway, I don't really do this a lot…or, really ever. But, I think the Bible says turn to you in our time of need. Or maybe that was Dumbledore?"_

_Brittany sighs, shifting uncomfortable on the window ledge. Her eyes dart over to the still "sleeping" Santana and she lowers her voice further, eyes searching the skies. "I really, really love her, God. I do. More than anything and anyone else in this world – and that's saying something because I've got this cat, Lord Tubbington; we go way back. But I'd give him up in a heartbeat just to be able to make her happy for the rest of her life."_

"_She's giving me a baby, you know? And that's…that's _so_ awesome. And, look, I know Santana's going to be such an awesome mom because she's so smart and when she loves, she loves so super-hard. Being loved by her is like having the biggest umbrella on a rainy day or like that cool blast of air when it's burning hot outside. It's perfect. And I just wish…" Brittany's voice wavers here and she sniffles, "...I know I'm not the brightest bulb in the…bulb box? Whatever, I know I'm not the smartest, but could you please…_please,_ let me be a good mom to our baby girl or boy. I'll study extra hard. I'll read all the books. But sometimes, even when I prepare really hard, I still mess up. But I don't want to mess this up. I want to be perfect for our son or daughter because they deserve it. Santana deserves it."_

_Santana curls her body in on itself, touching her stomach reverently as Brittany prays._

_She's never been more in love, she doesn't think._

_Brittany's ears perk up, sensing as well as hearing Santana's subtle movements. "Brittany S. Pierce, signing off. A women," she concludes, quickly padding across the room and slipping into the bed and trying not to bounce too hard._

_She slides her body up against Santana's, her arm shadowing the other woman's until her fingers too are splayed across the skin of her wife's belly._

"_I promise you," Brittany whispers, still believing she's speaking to Santana's unconscious self, "_Both_ of you, I'm going to be the best mom and wife ever. I promise."_

"You heard that?" Brittany asks; surprise evident on her face. Maya's quietly looking up at her, no doubt wondering why her mom has suddenly lost interest in the book.

"Yeah," Santana says, nodding once. "You sounded so scared and unsure of yourself, but, now look at you," she says and Brittany does, glancing down at the baby in her arms, safe and secure. "You're the best mom anyone could ask for. You're caring, attentive, and you make me – us– feel _so_ loved."

"So…" Brittany hedges, looking a bit shy, "…I guess I kept my promise then?"

Santana leans over, kisses Brittany once, twice. "And then some, Britt-Britt. And then some."

***o*O*o***

Santana's finished two verses by the time Brittany comes back and she hardly pays attention to the blonde as she sits down on the end of the couch, shifting Santana's bare feet so that they're sitting in her lap.

"I want to have sex," Brittany states just as casually as someone would comment of wanting a pizza.

Santana snorts, stilling her pen on the paper. "Your bluntness never fails to amuse me."

"Your hotness never fails to turn me on," Brittany says, quickly moving her body so that she straddling Santana's feet, her hands smoothing over deliciously bare calves. She slowly trails her hands higher, delighting in the trail of goosebumps that follow in their wake, "We condiment one another perfectly."

"Compliment," Santana corrects automatically, still feigning disinterest. "And I thought I told you that I was working on my music today."

"We can make some different kind of music," Brittany suggests with a playfully raised brow. "You know; _bow-chika-wow-wow_."

Brittany slides her body up further along the couch, hovering about Santana and rolling her hips against her. She takes the notebook and pen from Santana's hands, moving them to wrap around her waist as she drops wet, pecking kisses across Santana's collarbone and up the column of her neck until her breath lingers hot and heavy at Santana's ear. "Maya's sleeping…and we're…not. We should make the most of it."

Brittany presses a loud kiss to the skin just under Santana's ear, grinning against that spot when Santana giggles breathily.

"How come every time I go to work on my music you get all horny?" Santana asks, smoothly gliding her palms on the skin on Brittany's back, fingers tracing along her spine.

"Okay, first of all," Brittany clarifies, pulling back a little, still rhythmically grinding body against Santana's, "Every morning I wake up to you I'm instantly horny."

Santana raises a thigh and Brittany gasps at the momentary friction it creates, her head falling forward for just a moment as she loses her train of thought. "And b," she swallows, catching Santana's eye again as she holds her weight up with one hand, the other ghosting a palm along her wife's cheek, "I think it's the glasses. Bookworm Santana is one of my favorites."

Santana laughs out loud at that one, her head tilting back against the sofa cushions and Brittany smiles, hopping off the couch quickly and holding a hand out to pull Santana up.

"C'mon," she says gently, walking them backwards to their bedroom.

***o*O*o***

_DING DONG!_

"Uh oh," Brittany mutters, stilling her hands on Santana's body.

"Who is that?" Santana breathes. "Were you expecting anybody?"

Brittany shakes her head, pushing herself up on her elbows only to have Santana yank her back down. "Where are you going?" she hisses.

Brittany frowns. "I'm going to see who it is, duh."

"Britt," Santana says, her tone just a little bit biting, "if you leave me right now-"

Brittany grins, kissing the frown off of her wife's lips as the person at the door has taken to knocking _loudly_ in addition to ringing the doorbell. "I'll be right back," she whispers. "Just let me get rid of whoever the hell that is."

Santana falls back against the bed, chest heaving and eyes shut tightly as she tries to control herself while Brittany quickly tosses her shirt back on and pulls her sweats back up and over her hips.

The knocking sounds again just as she reaches the door and she calls out "Just a second!" hoping that whoever it is will quiet down.

Sure, Maya just went down for her nap, but she'll pop right back up if there's noisy motivation.

"Who is it?" she asks through the door, hand pausing on the handle.

"It's Grape Jelly," a young man calls out and Brittany gasps, pulling the door open and leaping into arms at once foreign and familiar.

After all, she hasn't seen Mike in an awfully long time.

"Oh my God," she squeals, laughing as he spins her around. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't gonna be back in town until April," she asks him, once her feet are planted firmly on the floor again.

"_Well_," Mike says, tugging his vest back down and removing his cap as he walks into the house, "That _was _the plan but then I said to myself I said, 'Self, as awesome as touring and stuff is, that niece of yours is probably almost walking now and all you've seen are pictures on your iPhone' and frankly Brittany, that ain't gonna cut it."

Brittany stares at him. "You seriously came all the way back to see Maya?"

Mike grins sheepishly. "Okay and my little sister's getting married."

"Britt," Santana calls, shuffling into the living room, "who was-"

"Santana Banana!"

Santana's eyes widen. "Oh no."

"Oh yes." Mike grins.

"Michael Chang, don't you dare," she warns backing up, but it's in vain and in no time he has her wrapped up in a bear hug and about a foot off the floor.

Brittany laughs jubilantly as Santana lightly pounds her fists against his back in protest. "Put me down, fool. You know I hate when you do this."

"Aww," Mike pouts, putting her back down, "But don't you secretly love it?"

"No," Santana grumbles, adjusting her top, "I _do_ not." She punches him again for good measure.

But Mike's undeterred, stepping over to their crowded mantle and picking up a framed photo of them and the baby. He smiles warmly, "So where's Maya?"

"Oh," Brittany says, jumping into action, "Yeah, come on Mike," she says, leading him to Maya's room.

Mike tiptoes after her, playfully bumping hips with Santana the whole time. Their relationship with Mike is…unusual.

Well, maybe not the one between Brittany and Mike; they're like brother and sister.

But Santana's always has been kind of annoyed by the guy and his inability to be anything other than happy and easy-going. Even when he and Tina ended their two-year relationship, he just smiled and shrugged, saying it was for the best.

She's never liked how laid back he was and that hasn't changed all these many years later, even though he's unofficially one of Maya's godfathers.

But, just for the record – in case anyone out there was thinking this or anything – his touchy-feely…ness with Brittany has nothing to do with it.

…

It doesn't.

"Look what you guys made. Wow, she's so little," Mike says, peeking over the edge of Maya's crib. The baby's asleep on her tummy; her little pouty lips open slightly as she snores ever so. "And, oh man, she's gorgeous. I know I've seen pictures and everything but nothing compares to the original."

"Well, what'd you expect?" Brittany grins, nudging Santana. "Have you seen her mother?"

***o*O*o***

"Okay," Mike says, giving hugs to the both of them, sometime later, "I expect both of you at the wedding. "And you too, Maya," he grins, shaking the baby's hand with his finger.

Maya yawns, still somewhat asleep. She blinks at Mike slowly before quickly breaking into a toothless grin.

"There we go," Mike laughs, looking fondly at the three of them, Brittany holding both Santana and Maya in her arms.

"What?" Brittany asks him, growing uncomfortable under his steady gaze.

"I'm just…I'm proud of you guys," he says, his smile somewhat shy. The moment feels heavy but it doesn't last long, Mike shaking his head and chuckling at his own lapse into seriousness. "Anyway," he smiles, "Have a nice rest of your evening, ladies."

"Good night, Mike," Santana says, leaning further into Brittany.

They watch him get into his car and drive away, Brittany absently bouncing Maya in her arms. "I'm glad he came by."

"Me too," Santana agrees, breathing out through her nose, then, "I'm still horny."

"Ditto."

***o*O*o***

People give Santana a lot of crap about being whipped but the fact is it's Brittany who usually drives to the 24 hour Walmart at insane hours of the night because Santana suddenly craves cookie dough ice cream, which reminds her, she should really make a mental note to stock pile the cookie dough ice cream.

And it's usually Brittany who cedes control of the television or Brittany who decides to live with lukewarm shower water and Brittany who – _gladly_ – hands over the last slice of chopped garlic and pineapple pizza.

Her wife's kind of strange.

But it's worth it, if only to see that scrunch-face smile or a gentle, brief kiss to a warm shoulder, or, you know, totally awesome, totally _hot_ thank you sex.

Wearing pajama bottoms in the check-out line is a small price to pay, really.

And then she comes home to this: Santana asleep, stretched out on her back; Maya, asleep as well, stretched out on Santana's stomach, their breathing synced together so perfectly that their tummies rise and fall at the same time.

It makes all the night runs and ice showers in the world absolutely and unequivocally worth it.


End file.
